


Magic Daggers

by ninjehkitteh



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-21 09:44:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjehkitteh/pseuds/ninjehkitteh
Summary: A flow of consciousness style fic about two of my World of Warcraft characters.They go on adventures and bond. That's pretty much it.The tags and summary will get updated to include things I deem necessary as I write.
Relationships: Male Night Elf/Male Human, Original Character/Original Character, Rogue/Mage - Relationship





	Magic Daggers

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little pet project to better my writing. I don't know how long it will be. 
> 
> Any and all comments are welcome and constructive criticisms are highly encouraged.

It was terrifying, waking up there on that makeshift cot surrounded by cold, grey stone bricks. Aches and pains everywhere there was a blood-soaked bandage. Memories of canine teeth and claws flashed before my eyes for a brief moment. I braced my arms on the cot and pushed upward, pain screamed in my muscles but I leaned back on the chilling stone wall behind me. Sitting up I could see four more cots just like the one I was on, empty save for a bag or satchel by the foot of them. Heavy footfalls sounded from outside coming closer to the doorway of my small room. A tall older dark-haired man entered wearing a large purple robe. His face was stern and grizzled holding an air that both settled and unsettled me. He pushed back some of that long, untidy hair from his face as he approached me. Looking down on my slumped form I saw an all too familiar look of pity flash over his features before he spoke. 

"You're awake, good. Welcome to Northshire Abbey kid. My name is Kheldon Bremen and I train the new mages around here. I saw the note you were carrying already, always useful to have a new aspiring mage around."

His voice was gruff but clear enough to understand. He lowered his hand to me, calloused and covered in small scars. I lifted my hand to shake his, my own hand feeling heavier than it usually did. Instead of shaking hands he lifted me to my feet and I felt my wounds burn and pinch and then pain faded from them quickly.

"What's your name kid?"

We shook hands, the heaviness to my limbs suspiciously absent. I noticed a faint glow coming seemingly from his palm. 

"Jethor, sir. Jethor Gresham." I said.

He turned to leave, calling back behind him, "Get yourself cleaned up and ready to learn. First lesson takes place in the courtyard. You got five minutes."

As soon as I heard the click of the wooden door fully closing I grabbed the nearest bandage, one on my forearm, and pulled it off. There was a bit of dried blood on my densely freckled skin but no wound, just a scar that wasn't there before the wolf attack. I rubbed over the scar, taking some dried blood off as I did, amazing, the scar was nothing but a flat line, a long one sure but it looked like it had been healing for years not mere hours. I reached into my raggedy pack and quickly checked its contents, only thing missing is the note, good. I grabbed my spare robe, a simple handmade thing of brown cloth, a little itchy but it kept me covered well enough. 

I exited the small room and found myself in a hallway of matching stone. A priest passed by, or maybe a staff member of the abbey I'm not sure. I stopped the old man asked for directions to the courtyard. He kindly pointed the way and I found it quickly, the building was small and well planned out, if not a bit old and worn. 

I had to shield my pale green eyes as soon as I opened the door, the brightness of that noon sun seeming blinding after the dimness of inside the abbey. Once my eyes adjusted I did a quick scope of the surrounding area. The courtyard was enclosed by a crude wooden fence whose entrance was a simple archway made of logs and rope. Guards were stationed a few feet away from each other all around the perimeter, carrying swords and torches to keep the mad wolves at bay. Those beasts kept their distance but all of them, in their absurd number, looked ready to strike the guards and rip any living thing to pieces. The courtyard itself was really a large lawn with a cobblestone roadway to connect the building to the main road outside the fence. I saw other young men and women in robes off to the side milling about, noticing the crude staves and wands they carried it wasn't hard to deduce they were my fellow mage trainees. I walked to join them, one of them quickly noticed I was approaching and made a bit of room for me to join the misshapen circle they had created and quick introductions were made, I wouldn't be able to remember the names, was never good with them. The lesson was supposed to start by now but I didn't see Bremen anywhere. I nudged the boy standing next to me, a tall beanpole of a person, dirt brown hair cut short and left to be wildly stuck up in all directions, dark eyes behind a pair of banged up iron framed glasses, tanned skin smudged with small patches of dirt. His name was Siegfred and I only remembered it because that's what we had named the family dog. I whispered to him as he turned to face me, "Have you seen the trainer around, aren't we supposed to be learning magic?"

"Well little man," I was only a head shorter than him, "some messenger came around coming from I wanna say Goldshire. Bremen left to go talk to him with the other class trainers. I wouldn't worry about it though." He ruffled my hair, messing up the short curls of pale orange. I could tell he heard me grumble as I fixed it. He had this smug smirk on his face. I already hate it and never want to see it again. 

By the time I saw the class trainers leave the abbey, everyone outside was sitting or even napping on the grass, the sun on its downward arc towards setting. Each trainer went to their respective class groups. Mages, warriors, rogues, and priests. Someone shook Siegfred awake, he fell asleep in the dirt an hour or so ago like a pig sunbathing. 

"Get your asses up," Bremen spoke loudly as he approached, "we've got just enough daylight to learn a simple fire spell, and by the gods you're gonna learn at least one spell while you're here." 

That night after a lean supper of stew and bread, I lay on my cot in the mages' shared room. The lesson went . . . ok, a few small fires that got away from us had to be put out and one girl burned her hand. Everyone was already asleep, but I couldn't help but mull Bremen's words over in my mind. What did he mean 'while you're here'? Did we have to leave earlier than intended? Would we be sent home unable to finish our basic training? Or maybe we had to be sent elsewhere because of the wolves? All I knew for sure is that I had to learn to be a mage, I always knew its what I was meant to do and if I had to travel to the ends of Azeroth to find somewhere that could teach me. 


End file.
